


ode to disagree

by drmsqnc



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 05:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15527262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drmsqnc/pseuds/drmsqnc
Summary: domestics





	ode to disagree

“We’re not talking about this.”

You fruitlessly struggle to get past the obstacle that is Connor’s body. He twirls you around, blocking your path to the door. 

“Yes we are. Sit.” 

You glare. 

“ _Sit._ ” His expression tightens. “Please.”

Guilt trickles into you. Your frustration however burns brighter and so you sit onto the bathroom counter with as much force as you can manage, well intending for him to know of your anger. He frowns. 

“I still do not understand why you would do this to yourself,” he kneels at your feet, lifting your leg gently. Dexterous fingers begin to quickly unwrap the adhesive enclosed around the stretch of your calf. “It was foolish.” 

The sting of the alcohol soaked cotton he uses to dab around the irritated skin is sharp. You hiss, but otherwise remain silent. Connor glances up and you decisively look away.

His frown deepens.

“Your current state is regressing you emotionally.”  _You’re acting like a child._

You bristle.

“I can help myself,” you snap. “I didn’t ask for you to do this.” He reapplies new gauze to the gash.

“And I do not recall asking you to get injured, but I suppose neither of us are getting what we want today.”

You gape. 

 _When_ and _where_ did he learn to be so sarcastic?!

You are _so_ blaming Hank. “I got hurt because I was protecting _you!_ ”

He slams the ointment back onto the counter.

“That is exactly my point. It was foolish,” Connor says briskly, pronouncing every syllable. “I can afford to be physically damaged. _You_ on the other hand are not so quick to be healed.”

“And so what?” You seethe, aggressively running your hands through your hair. “I’m just supposed to let you get hurt? I’m supposed to just _stand there_?”

He closes his eyes. The tension within him disappears in one go. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh I understand perfectly. I thought we were past this! _When_ will you-”

“I can’t watch that again.”

You hesitate.

“What?”

Connor’s head falls to rest lightly on top of your knee. “I can’t watch you get hurt on my account.”

Every retort you’ve stewed over goes dry on your tongue. 

“Connor,” is all that leaves you in the end.

His hand finds yours, scrambles for it like you’re the last thing holding him together. “I–” He traces your bandage ever so softly, as though he’s suddenly afraid to touch it. “You’re just–you’re just so fragile _._ ” It would be an insult from anyone else, but Connor breathes it like an inquiry. “Humans are everything and nothing at all, and yet _you–_ you’re different. You _feel_ different.” 

Feel. A concept entirely still fresh, still new to the android kneeling before you, and maybe this _,_ whatever _this_ is, is all together too much for him after all. His eyebrows knit together.

“You mean so much,” he says. He looks confused– _scared_  as his voice falters and his bright eyes search yours and your heart absolutely breaks. 

“Me too.” You say. Then groan. “Um–I mean you too–that is, you are the same for me– _to_ me I _mean,_ ” your face burns. “I treasure you too.”

Connor lights up like a morning star. 

You stare, dumbfounded by his glow. Thoughtlessly, your fingers reach out to brush back a short strand of hair behind his ear. It’s instinctive, a simple need to touch him in any way you can. He’s shining and so are you and all in all he is so _so_ lovely and–

–and reality hits. Your lips tug down. “But this is the job, Connor. My job. Getting hurt is just something that will happen.”

The hope in his eyes dims. Instantly, a surge of hate rises within you for ever making that smile disappear.

“But hey,” you rush for the perfect words. “We’ll figure it out. Together, yeah?”

For a long, terrifying moment, Connor doesn’t respond. 

Then finally, he nods.

“Yes.” He smiles softly to himself. He squeezes your hand, tenderly intertwining the fingers together.

“Together.”


End file.
